


our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, time's forever frozen still

by alex_archer



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, this made me sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22841200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_archer/pseuds/alex_archer
Summary: based off an established verse where tim thought nisha died and he was kidnapped/tortured and he sNAPPED... i believe there's another fic in this verse on my page? who knows, though... but there will be morefuckwad tim @ me and nisha @ pandoranmama
Relationships: Timothy Lawrence/Nisha
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, time's forever frozen still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PandoranMama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoranMama/gifts).



Nisha hissed as she saw him laying there, dropping her kill on the floor of the cave, her body ached from hunting all day. The skag population had learnt to not hang around here, her cave mate hunted the area to near extinction. He had an urge, and she was glad he stopped taking it out on humans… Still, it meant she had to go out hunting further and further from the cave, and the longer she was out the more stressed he got. When he got stressed, he got dangerous. When he got dangerous, he or others got hurt. This time, judging from the first aid kit scattered around him and the amount of blood, it looked like both scenarios played out. She’d been gone too long, and he got antsy.

Still, she stepped closer, slowly in case he was still awake. The glow of blue under his nose told her he was most likely still coming down from a high. As she got closer, she winced at the clatter of a bottle across the floor. She looked down to see an empty bottle of whiskey, where had he stashed these things? Nisha thought he’d thrown it all away, thought he was at least making progress. Perhaps he’d gone out to get some, when she wasn’t back fast enough, and he’d gotten into trouble then. It was the only expression she could think of, the only she wanted to think of. He’d made so much progress…

“Timothy… Oh, handsome… What have you done to yourself?” Nisha knelt down next to him and gently did her best to look over his body. Her fingers flitted out to move his clothing, the smell of burnt flesh wafted out as she saw his wounds. He’s cauterized them as best as he could, but she needed to get them washed out before infection could set in. She pressed over his body, checking for broken bones or swelling. He stirred gently with a groan as she pressed his chest, so his ribs were most likely fractured or broken. A simple bruising wouldn’t have dragged his consciousness from _that_ hard a high, and it made her life harder.

He was skinnier than before, he weighed less and less every day and it scared her. He’d been trying, really he had, but he couldn’t stomach things during the withdrawal. Then he refused to eat out of fear, and she couldn’t blame him. Nisha knew he used daily for at least a year, and it was the worst withdrawal she’d ever seen. The seizures he got before, because of the surgeries Jack put him through, grew worse. There wasn’t a single night she didn’t help him clean vomit or worse off himself. Still, every time he looked at her she saw her Timothy in his eyes, not the monster he became, and that made her keep going instead of leave.

Now, as she reached under his arms to drag him into the bathroom, she thought about those looks. He’d become a twisted mockery of the man she loved, but he was trying to reconnect with those sparks she saw deep inside him. Nisha could see he was trying, the struggle on his mind weighed him down. Everything in him struggled to come to terms with accepting that is who he’d become.

Nisha saw his struggle and saw his potential. That was what kept her there. Loving can hurt sometimes, but it’s the only thing she knew. It’s what made her so good at keeping on. It also helped with her moral, especially in times like this. It was hard to beat Nisha Kadam down, and harder still to keep her down.

So, as she gently lifted him into the shower, to sit him against the glass, she hummed as she worked. If she focused on something else besides gently peeling away the blood and vomit soaked clothes from his body, she could focus on something other than the scars and the wounds marring his skin. She’d been there for so many of those scars, on Helios and Elpis, but they were now a mere fraction of the total portfolio painting his body. It hurt her every time she saw it. He wasn’t her Timothy any more, but this was still the body she loved so much. The freckles and the constant deep-set blush. The way his skin pulled over his collarbones, the way it rippled under her fingers whenever she touched him. The swirl of his chest hair, and the trail dusting around his navel. Everything about it she loved, and his completely new disregard for it stung her to the core.

She pealed the last of his clothing, down to his briefs, and stood to start the faucet. The icy cold water was like a breath of fresh air, and she took a second to let it wash over her. The water and chill pierced through her clothing, she waited until she could feel the wetness before she stripped off the leather. Recovering, she bent back down with a rag and soap. Nisha set into meticulously cleaning him. She started with his face, dragging the sudsy fabric along his jaw, and across his lips. She gently wiped the dirt from around his eyes with her thumb, careful not to get soap under those beautifully peaceful lids. Moving down, she scrubbed his chest down, wiping with her hands around his wounds so as not to break the scabs.

As Nisha watched the dirt and viscera wash away, she trailed her fingers along his smooth skin. She watched the water currents direct and redirect his hair. She watched the color returning to his chest, his breathing getting more even. She turned her attention to his hair, running her fingers through to get the knots out, plucking a few bandit bits out as she did. No matter how much he tried to dye it, the double surgery job was fading and his red hair kept coming through the roots. In the water, his locks shimmered like copper in a stream. She bent down to place a kiss on his forehead before she stood to shut the faucet off.

She kicked the dirty clothes aside before she open the shower to retrieve a few towels. She knelt once more by his side, patting him dry. Doing the same to herself, she paused. Too many times she’d had to clean him like this, but more often than not he was semi-conscious and mouthy. Looking at him now, he looked peaceful. His hair curled with the moisture, resembling his old mess of a mop she used to love pulling so much. The pain must still be muted by the inebriance, because his mouth curled into a subtle smile. She wished she knew what he was dreaming about. Nisha caught herself then. She didn’t. Not like this. She used to watch Timothy sleep, begging the universe to know what had him rutting and smiling about. Now, she’d give anything to not know what he thought about.

Pulled from her reverie, Nisha stood to lift him onto her shoulder, careful not to stress his ribs. She stepped from the shower and headed into his bedroom, placing him gently on the bed. Nisha reached down to pull his comforter up, over his body. Despite everything she hated about this new him, she still couldn’t stop herself from loving Tim if she tried. She watched as his body recognized the comfort of the bed, his hands coming up to pull the sheet in close and he curled around it. His mouth opened into the softest of snores.

Before she left him alone, Nisha took one last look. Despite the scar on his face, his own doing to liken himself _more_ to Jack, and despite knowing he’d wake up and those features would once again become contorted, Nisha loved him. No matter what he did to try and look less like himself, no matter what he did to twist his image, she’d love his handsome face. Regardless of the pain in her heart from his scars, or from seeing the anger and impudent rage, she’d always love him.

Stepping from the room, Nisha turned away from him, whispering under her breath, “Come back to me, handsome… _But for now, good night.”_


End file.
